


Morning Glory

by Merilsell



Series: Lenyaverse: Sidestories [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), Boners, Cuddling & Snuggling, Demisexuality, Dry Humping, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Lenyaverse, Making Out, Morning Cuddles, Morning Wood, Porn with Feelings, Resolved Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, Sleepy Cuddles, Sleepy Kisses, Touching, Well technically it's wet humping, horny wardens are horny, pre-first time explorations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-25 23:24:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17130674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merilsell/pseuds/Merilsell
Summary: “Can we stay like this? For five more minutes?”It was difficult to not let his eyes drop shut again, in the comfort of her hug. Even more impossible was to deny her – them– this. Not when another, exhausting day of walking in heavy armor and with little to no possibility for touches between them was ahead. “Yes, sure, love.”A story of sleepy cuddles and morning boners that escalates into something more. Self-indulging, feelsy smut of Alistair/Warden about their pre-first time explorations of each other. Also, dry humping, because practice makes perfect, right? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)





	Morning Glory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blarfshnorgull](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blarfshnorgull/gifts), [Meishuu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meishuu/gifts), [heffalumps](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heffalumps/gifts), [samzillastomps](https://archiveofourown.org/users/samzillastomps/gifts), [MoonlightBrunette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonlightBrunette/gifts), [tome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tome/gifts).



> Merry smutty Christmas to you???? While it is not officially part of the SC holiday exchange, this is no reason for me to not give away my stories to unsuspecting people anyway. Hence why so many names are listed as gift recipient above. I simply listed everyone who I think would/will enjoy this way too lengthy piece of feels and boners. Pls excuse if I forgot to list you and feel included in my smut-gifting ways ;)
> 
> By the way, the title is due to me loving puns and being twelve years old at times giggling at innuendos. Enjoy?

“Alistair... Alistair!”

Reality tugged him from the Fade in form of his name being muttered next to him. A sleepy groan ensued, then she shifted away a bit, leaving him as cold as his backside already was. Lenya, hugger of all blankets and fur ever, stole even the last remaining corner from him. While she rerolled herself into a cocoon of warmth and letting him fully enjoy Ferelden’s brisk morning air, she murmured words equaling the effect of an ice-water bucket for his own sleepiness.

“Stop poking meeee!”

 _Oh_. He didn’t need to look down at himself to know what she meant. The pressure was there after all, straining the fabric of his thin linen pants. Nothing unusual, really. Every morning since his early teens he’d woken to his own hardness. It was just how… things were. But all of it became far more complicated when they had decided to start sleeping together, sharing a tent on the road. After becoming as close as they did after the, _ahem_ , nightly experimentation in Redcliffe, it was only the next logical step in their relationship. Still, taking it had its own set of trails and tribulations. Like a mabari being far too large for thinking of himself as a lap dog, a blanket thieving Dalish and, well, unintentional morning poking, as she called it. He loved this woman and wouldn’t want to ever fall asleep without her in his arms again, but Maker, he was _cold_.

Sitting up, Alistair’s yawn devolved into a shiver. He rubbed his face with both hands and gave the cause for his disrupted sleep a baleful stare as it twitched. Right, time to fix that, so to speak. Morning toilet, and all that. His morning hardness always went away when either spending enough moments in meditation or after emptying his bladder. This time it was much more of the latter, explaining the pressure within his lower abdomen. Ugh. Stepping outside into the murky light of dawn held little appeal for him, but there was little choice here, was there?

Lenya, next to him, wrapped in several blankets, including his own, was blissfully unaware to his lack of motivation _and_ warmth. Figures. He turned toward her, pressing a kiss onto her cheek. “I’ll be back in a bit, love. You should get up too. Denerim is still a long march away, after all.” Or _weeks_ of daily marching, more like. Stupid but much needed Urn of Andraste. Stupid _freezing_ morning amidst spring, turning his exhale into puffed, small clouds. Stupid… well, bodily functions, forcing him to face the day and possibly their other companions _way too early._

Lenya’s answering grunt to his words reflected his own mood right now all too well as he half-stepped, half-crawled out of their tent.

 

* * *

 

When he returned dozens of minutes later, freshened up and thankfully erection-less, she was up. Well, not up and about, but awake, at least. More than he would have expected to find, to be honest. Lenya wasn’t exactly an early riser by choice and needed subtle or not-so-subtle encouragements to leave her bedroll in the morning. With the mountain of bedding and fur keeping her warm, well, who could blame her?

“Hey...” Kneeling to not knock over the tent with his size, Alistair scooted over to her. He brushed his knuckle along her cheek, down to her neck and tousled hair. Her eyes traced the movement of his hand and kissed the backside of his fingers as they passed her lips. “Good morning.”

“Uuuuuuurgh,” she made, grimacing. “Nothing is good about this morning.”

Ah, so typical, so endearing. “True, I noticed there is a nefarious thief running about, stealing all blankets in the night.” He chuckled and gave her tattooed forehead a quick peck. “Have you seen them, maybe?”

“Nope…” she muttered, her voice still somewhat drowsy, but also carrying a hint of amusement. “No thieves here. _I_ still have all my blankets, after all.”

“Hmm… I see.” Hah. Two could play that game. “Their identity will remain a mystery for the ages then, I fear.” He feigned a thinking pose, tapping his chin. “I wonder why they only target me, though.”

Lenya rolled over to the other side with a grunt, using the motion to untangle herself from the bedding. The tangle of her long, blond hair however remained and nearly hid the displeased face she made as she trembled. “Shit, it is cooooold.”

“When is it _not_ in Ferelden?”

“Bah.” With a pout she reached out to him; an attempt of a more or less sloppy, misdirected hug. “You are waaaaarm, though.”

Taking pity on her, he met her halfway in wrapping his arms around her shoulders. Even as sleepy, tousled and kind of whiny as she was, Lenya was still adorable _and_ beautiful. Maybe even more so, now. Because around him, she let her guard down, could be herself. Something she rarely allowed herself, if ever. Alistair leaned his head at her shoulder and closing his eyes, he breathed in. Among the tang of grass and leather lingering upon her skin, a surge of affection rose from deep inside, spreading warmth in his belly. “I love you.” He glanced up to her, smiling. “Even if you hoard all blankets, leaving me freezing.”

“Hmm, apologies.” Inching closer, her arms entwined around his chest and her fingers drew small circles upon his clothed back. “Not used to sharing my bedroll yet.” She let out a little, pleased sound, resting her head at his chest as well. “Hmm, you are so warm, like a furnace.”

He laughed, kissing the top of her head. “Glad to be of service, my lady.”

“Can we stay like this? For five more minutes?”

It was difficult to not let his eyes drop shut again, in the comfort of her hug. Even more impossible was to deny her – _them_ – this. Not when another, exhausting day of walking in heavy armor and with little to no possibility for touches between them was ahead. “Yes, sure, love.” Despite him agreeing, Lenya let go and stood up. _Hey!_ Before his mental protest could turn into verbal one, she returned with two blankets from the pile amassed on her bedroll. She laid one around his shoulders, the other around her own. “Here, you can have it back now.”

“Aww, you are too –“ The amusement about it and the remaining words died on his lips, when she suddenly plopped down on his lap, erasing any distance between them. Not harsh enough to hurt him by any means, but the sudden onrush of warmth and proximity of her still ended all thoughts.

Shifting, she straddled him fully now. Her arms found their prior position, hugging him. “Oh, no poking anymore?”

“No, in the morning, it always vanishes after a wh–“ Maker, her breasts pressed against his chest and there was only a thin layer of clothes; shirt, undergarments and linen pants, between them. It left little to imagination, if any. Warmth slowly morphed into heat within his veins, settling in his abdomen and… _lower_. “But –“ He bit down a moan, as the pressure continued to build up. It would be any moment now, and this time he couldn’t blame a full bladder for it, nope. To distract himself, Alistair kissed her, but her soft mouth only accelerated the whole process, alas. _Yup, here we go._

Her lips curled to a smile against his. “Back to poking, I see.”

Well, to be fair, she _was_ straddling him, so what did she expect? Or was _that_ what she had expected, after all? With her, there was never only one answer, but this added to her charm for him. Even if it drove him crazy at times, like now. From the corner of his mouth, Lenya nuzzled her way down his neck, before leaning back a bit. “So, does that happen every morning?”

They’d shared a tent for, what, a week now? Knowing her, this question was bound to happen. She was blunt, sometimes – _often_ – too much and her direct, brusque manner to handle problems or things she didn’t understand never failed to catch him off-guard. “Waking up, well –“ Alistair grimaced. She was going to make him say it out loud, right?

“...erect?” Ah, ever so helpful.

“Yes, thank you.” Her fingernails were still lightly driving up and down his his clothed back, which dulled the edges of his arousal to something more relaxed. Not enough for his mind and body to not be on figurative fire, but it let him focus on her words, at least. “Yes, though as said, it goes away after a bit.”

“But not now, right?”

Damn, her voice was as amused as he was hard by now. Meaning: _very_. Wow, thanks brain, such an useful comparison. “With you sitting on my lap, touching me?” Trailing a hand along her outer thigh up her back, Alistair cusped her cheek. All of her was right here, at his fingertips. But would she want him to touch her, like he did the night in Redcliffe? Despite having her sit on his lap, unfazed by his erection underneath her and even wriggling against, he held himself back. What if he did something wrong? For now, he settled with the more safe gestures practiced enough times before, like nibbling along her pointed earlobe. She had liked that right away, and her reaction in form of fisting her hands in his shirt proved him correct once more. His breath contrasted the cool air at her ear and she shivered with each of his words. “While being as ravishing as you are? Not a chance!”

With each shudder, tiny rippling motions of her hips ensued, crashing against his cock. Biting his lips to stifle a moan, he pressed her up against himself without thinking, seeking more of the delicious friction. It cost him all his willpower to not buck his own hips up, to take more than she was possible willing to offer. “Yeah, you are right.” Voice hoarse, her mouth stood half-open to compensate for the increased need for air. Her chest heaved up and down with each in-and-exhale; a hypnotic rhythm which ultimately led to further small movement of her hips. However intentional they were wasn’t certain, nor did he care beyond _more_ and _closer_. It became progressively tough to not give into his desire to meet her half way and rut up against her. “It feels…” Maker, his heart missed a beat and hammered even faster right after when she seized her lower lip with her teeth. So sexy. Everything about her was just, just – “… good. Hard. Hot,” Lenya finished her sentence with a low whimper that sent his head spinning.

Gripping her shoulders, Alistair crashed his mouth against hers, and her body flat at his chest. Lust superseding gentle affection, he kissed her with all the vigor previously held back, and was met with the same eagerness by her. Heat pooled in his belly like fire, as she suckled at his lower lip and then deepened the kiss until their tongues swirled together in a heady, slick rhythm.

Breaking away far too soon, Lenya snapped for air. “ _Atish’an_ ,” she rasped, and sat back on the balls of her feet. It was freezing without her closeness all the sudden and not because of the blankets having long fallen to the ground around them. The five more minutes also had become several already, lost as they had been in the moment. And there was movement, hushed voices outside, their campsite no longer silent. Damn, any time now someone could check on them, wondering where both of Ferelden's last Ward–

“Can I touch you?” Oblivious to his concerns, Lenya peered up at him through half-lidded eyes, her freckled cheeks flushed. She leaned forward to whisper in his ear, close enough to brush up against his erection. “You can touch me too, you know.“

Maker help him, but he wanted that, and her. _Especially_ her, always. “Oh yees!” Screw them, as long the archdemon wasn’t parading through their camp, they could _wait_.

She reached down between them and gently cusp his cock in her hand through his pants. “It’s so hard.” Even with the fabric muting her touch, it was _so_ much better than his own hand. Alistair sucked in air as a hiss, which she somehow interpreted as something else than the sharp arousal that it was. “Does it hurt?” Not trusting his voice, he simply shook his head, smiling. Encouraged by his reply, Lenya gripped him a bit more firmly and gave his cock an experimental rub. Eyes rolling back into his head, his hips snapped up. Andraste’s mercy, she was going to kill him this way, very soon. “Aww, and now it twitches,” she stated, all too amused. Normally, this would be embarrassing, but now? Kinda hot. Because Lenya was so open about her desires once she knew what she wanted and how to approach it. Far more better than he was in communicating them, too.

To be fair, it was hard –no pun intended– to form a straight word with his cock – clothed or not– in her hand. Maybe he didn’t need to, though, with her being so close to him. He let his hands wander over her sides, down to the hem off her shirt and tugged at it. Her back slightly stiffened at the motion. Alistair immediately stopped what he was doing. He ducked his head to be at a level with her eyes. “Is this… okay?”

“Yes,” she breathed out a laugh. “Was just surprised, is all.”

“Good.” Oh, how much he loved her. Ducking further, he peppered kisses along her neck, and trailed his fingertips along the warm, bare skin underneath the fabric. She wasn’t soft, like the women described in Wynne’s cheesy novels. Or the ones that propositioned him once, back in Denerim, in another life. Lenya was muscled, wiry; a trained fighter like him. Her hard edges were contrasted by smooth skin, scarred in places like his own. And the most beautiful woman in whole of Thedas, of course, but that went without saying.

“You're so…” He lost the remaining words to a sigh uttered into her shoulder, breathing her in. Another one followed when she mimicked his actions, slipping both hands underneath his shirt too. However, the loss of her touch was quickly compensated by her body, as she let herself plop back down onto his lap. Maker. There it was again, this sharp need, the heat of her, pressing so close. Hugging him like she did prior but underneath his shirt now, she moved her hips; deliberate this time. This far more pronounced motion elicited a far too loud groan out of him. _Damn_ _it_. Alistair stilled, although his cock protested the lack of friction and twitched repeatedly in defiance. Treacherous bastard.

Lenya snorted, amused. “Liked that, huh?” Oh, oh, she noticed. Of course. How could she not, with him heralding his pleasure to the entire camp outside. Her lips scratched against the stubble on his chin, kissing it. “Me too. It feels good, to move this way,” she said brightly, and did it again. Alistair bit down on the insides of his mouth to at least not vocalize his rapture _this_ time. “And you...” She shuddered out a breath. “… feel good underneath me.”

“Yes.” Letting his fingertips slide down her bare back, over the hard plane of her stomach, Alistair reached up to cusp a small breast. “So do you, that close.” _So much._

When his thumb flicked over her nipple and then once again, Lenya was the one who stilled this time. Her head tilted back and eyes closed, she hummed out her pleasure. Oh, such an alluring sound! And the expression within her face, this contentment… Maker, he could cum from that alone. “Hmm, mooore,” she whispered, breath hot and erratic. Immediately after, she rocked her hips against his groin. And then again, and again. Unable to do anything in his gasping daze, Alistair held on to her, crushing her against his chest. Eyes closed, his mind and body tingled, sung with her proximity and heat. Though all the sudden, Lenya halted her motions and released her arms around him. _No!_ He stifled a sob. _Don't stop!_ She reached down and tugged at his shirt. “Off. Stupid fabric is in the way.”

Ah, so this was the reason. Right. He could do that, even if … yep, still cold. Alistair almost regretted getting rid of his shirt in the sobering chill of morning. Well, almost, since Lenya promptly followed suit, which yeah, was a nice sight. Really, _really_ nice. More than that, even. “Ugh, warm meeee,” she whined, pressing her perky breasts and herself at his chest. Well, he was warm alright due to that, thank you very much. Oh, the feel of her, skin upon skin with the exception of their pants, was much further than where the night in Redcliffe led. No complains about it, as his arousal showed, but going all the way? This was neither the time, nor place for taking this step. A place not being the freezing outdoors would be great for that, as well having the needed leisure to explore _all_ of her. She deserved nothing less than that. “Let’s keep the pants on, yeah?”

“Meh...” she only said, nuzzling along his chest, which refocused his attention to the here and now. This time he was the one bucking his hips up, finally giving in to the urge. Alistair repeated the motion once more; then she joined in, chasing the same, sweet friction. _Hmm, oh yes._

They worked out a rhythm after the first couple of discordant times, rutting against each other in earnest. By now, the whole camp probably knew what was up, since they were all but subtle in their passion. While exchanging heated and somewhat sloppy kisses to keep each other from moaning too loudly, the pressure inside of him build up too bright and sharp to stay completely silent. Her shuddering gasps in between motions only added to the fire burning in his veins, his whole being. Despite their frenzy, they held tightly onto each other, using lips and hands to caress every bit of skin in reach. It was perfect, imperfect bliss.

“Alistair...” Lenya groaned his name into his shoulder, while her movements grew more and more erratic. The rasp of his name by her _like this_ was what sent him over the edge. Hips stuttering beneath her, then stilling, he came so hard his mind blanked and he needed both of his hands to stop himself from crying out his pleasure. For a long moment, there was just… blissful  _nothingness._ He held onto her like a man drowning, while he recovered from the hazy ecstasy clouding his mind.

Lenya, however did not stop and continued her own chase for release. She was oblivious or not caring for added wetness pooling between them. It rather aided the process if the hasty, needy cadence of her voice and breath next to him was any indication. Her eyebrows creased in concentration, she crushed against him, again and again. How could he help her to, well, _get_ _there_ , make her feel as good as he did, moments ago? The way her breasts bounced as she moved gave him a good idea for it, however. Brushing a sweaty strand of hair aside, he kissed an open-mouthed path down her collarbone, until reaching her breasts. While cupping one with his hand, applying light pressure, his mouth and tongue fondled the other one. Oh, now he had really died and gone to the Maker, because… _wow_. This was awesome. And Lenya seemed to agree that he was doing something right here, for her fingernails dug into one of his shoulder blades and her whimpers increased in volume. She buried her other hand within his hair, keeping him in place. He was happy to oblige, of course, and continued to roll his tongue over her nipple, again and again.

Then, at last, with a final rut up against him, Lenya halted and came apart in stuttering trembles and twitches. Alistair darted upwards and wrapped his arms around her back to hold her still, safe. “Shh.” He kissed the crease between her brows, then her lips, to swallow up the remainder of a moan. “I got you, love. It’s alright.” Her face and posture relaxed a couple of seconds after, the tension inside of her finally gone. Caressing her cheek, while still holding her, she leaned into his palm and touch.

“I never before had– wow.” She still struggled to catch her breath, yet smiled up at him with unfocused eyes. “So that's what is about, huh?”

Wait, did he hear this correctly? Her first _ever–_ “You never had any – well, experienced _that_ kind of pleasure before? Not even… on your own?”

“No,” she exhaled and sagged against him. “Like I said, I wasn't interested in this. Prior to loving you, I mean.”

“Wow, that's… _huge_ , then. The trust you have put into me here. I'm– ” Blinking slowly, his mouth stood agape, words escaping him. _I did that. I made her feel this way._  Pride swelled in his chest upon the thought, its warmth spread down to his stomach and into all limbs. Grinning so widely his cheeks started to hurt, Alistair placed a kiss onto her lips, soft and chaste.  

“Of course I did,” she beamed at him, pale cheeks still deeply flushed. Maker, she was so beautiful. “Because I love you.”

“And I you. Always,” Alistair replied, and with every fiber of his existence meant it.

“I know.” Lenya hugged him tightly with a sigh. Leaning back a bit right after, she frowned up at him. “Wait, does that mean you have, relieved tension – as Zevran calls it– on your own before?”

What? Oh, _that_. Leave it to her to ask the tough questions _and_ expecting an answer. He coughed into his hand, his cheeks burning now for another reason. “You know, back in the Chantry, the sisters used to tell us boys that touching oneself caused blindness, because the Maker was always watching and would punish us for it.”

“Hmm, how cheery.”

“Right?” He chuckled. “Well… due to my still very much functioning eyes, I can now officially confirm that they were lying.” Maker he didn’t miss the raging time of coming of age, occupied by endless days of racy fantasies and hard-ons in between templar training and meditations. Though given how often he’d snuck away from camp in the last months alone, achingly hard and in need of release, it was not so much different now, half a decade later. “Shocker, I know.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “Is that so?”

Alistair shrugged. No point in denying it toward her, was there? He had been a bad, _bad_ man. “It _is_ relaxing. Takes off an edge after a long day of battle, or after we, well, kissed a lot.” 

“Yeah… I am indeed more relaxed nnnn – fuck, it is still so coooold,” Lenya swore as a harsh gust of wind hitting between the cracks of their tent disrupted her initial sentence. It also served as a cruel reminder how very underdressed they both currently were for Ferelden’s frosty temperatures amidst late spring. Shuddering, she crawled back to her bedroll to the safety and warmth the pile of blankets there offered. How unfair. She gave him a pointed look. “And everything in the tent being wet and sticky doesn’t help either.”

Everything… was quite a large stretch, though. Mostly his pants and... _hers_ by the look of it. Maker. “Hmm, sorry?”

“Nah, ‘s alright.” Lenya shrugged him off, but took heed to not do the same with the blanket around her shoulders. ” I sat through a very embarrassing talk with Ashalle in my early teens, after all.” She snorted. “Surprise, babies aren’t delivered by some magic fairy of the Beyond. Who knew?”

Alistair pulled his shirt overhead for some resemblance of normal body temperature. “What? No, this cannot be!" he gasped, feigning shock. "So many illusions destroyed on this morning alone. Tragic, really.”

“We may have to burn the tent to get rid of the smell, though.”

Ah, ever the romantic. “Oooor we just change into another set of pants, after freshening up? No need to be _that_ drastic, love. There is a stream close by, after all.”

“Well next time, the pants come off then too,” she stated in a tone as if conversing about the weather, putting her prior discarded shirt back on. “No need to ruin them.”

“I.. uh,” His mouth opened and closed a few times without being able to articulate words. “… may not be able to survive that escalation of events, I fear.” Just the thought of her being completely naked and in front of and underneath or above him… _yeah_. A dive into frigid stream water would do him good before armoring up, and not only for hygienic purposes. Unfortunately –or not– he already had added this morning to the list of things to replay in his head during their days of dreary marching. Great, he truly had reverted back into his horny teen self, hadn’t he? Sister Margaret would storm into their tent and beat him with her cane any minute now, for sure.

“Shit, do you think… they noticed?” Lenya had such a talent to casually switch from one topic to the next. “That we were, well, occupied?” They being their companions, of course. Given the commotion on the other side of this way too thin tent canvas, all of them were long up and about. How wonderful.

“You mean, just because they haven’t waltzed in to wake us, like they always did the days before without failing? Pfft, perish the thought.”

“Ugh.” She made a face. Yeah, they weren’t going to live this down, ever. “I will feed them to the next darkspawn if they say anything.”

“Hmm, so practical.” Scooting over to her, Alistair gave her a quick kiss. “See, that is why I love you. Among many other reasons, of course.” His wet pants clang to his thighs, interrupting any attempt of further romance. Ugh, no sense in procrastinating any further then, alas. “Come on now, love. Lets get cleaned up and ready for the day.” Everything else they could sort out later. No matter if it were the hunt for obscure religious items or death-inducing, mutual nakedness. They would approach it together. _Always_ together.

He wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no issue with fics showing Alistair as being a bit, well, ashamed of taking steps in his sexuality due to his chantry upbringing, really. That can be fun too. But this story is set where their relationship is already quite far progressed, emotionally and intimately. (Just weeks before the first time). Also ingame shows that Alistair is pretty good in recognizing his desires and to talk about them, once he knows what he wants. So him being way more open about it all in this story, makes especially sense in regard of how Lenya approaches (their) intimacy.
> 
> Kudos/Comment? Let me know if you liked it, and what you liked :)


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